“He said, ‘If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.’”
“Then how come the telling part doesn’t work when it comes to me being adopted!” I yelled.
Dad’s face tensed up, and the Mad Meter started pulsing fast like the maracas in “La Cucaracha.” “You think being adopted gives you the right to disrespect me?”
Respect had nothing to do with it. “You don’t understand and you won’t talk about anything.” I shook my head and crossed my arms.
“How can you say this isn’t your real family? I’ve tried to be the best father I can be for you, Joseph. That’s what I understand. Every day I go out there and break my back for you and your sisters. So does your mother. That’s family!”
Dad stomped over to the family room and turned the music down. Meanwhile, his temper rose way up with his voice.
“I’ve never been dishonest about your adoption, Joseph. The truth is, Mom and I know very little. That’s how it is in Korea!”
I could yell too. “It’s not just about what you know, Dad! Why can’t you deal with who I am? I couldn’t count on you to help me write one lousy essay. Last time I checked, being adopted wasn’t a crime, but you sure act like it is!”
I stormed upstairs and slammed my bedroom door. Then I opened my socks-and-underwear drawer, grabbed the box with the corno, and threw it across the room. Whack! It hit my Amazing Spider-Man poster and fell behind my bed. The poster came crashing down behind it. Even the coolest superhero had collapsed from the stress of living in this house.
I walked to Nash’s house, but nobody was home. Then I headed toward Shear Impressions, but turned around. I didn’t want to face Mom yet.
Somehow I ended up at the Jiffy Wash.
“Yongsu’s out back,” Mrs. Han said, carrying a stack of shirts and jerking her head in that direction.
I was heading for the door when Ok-hee walked in.
“Mrs. Peroutka told my class that you won the essay contest,” she said with an unexpected smile.
I nodded, wishing I could disappear between the hangers of shrink-wrapped clothes.
“My essay was about my great-grandmother in Taegu. She made beautiful mother-of-pearl jewelry boxes. What did you write about?”
“Miscellaneous Korean stuff,” I said. Ok-hee was finally acting normal, not superior, but this topic was off limits.
A customer walked in with a blanket in her arms, and Mrs. Han turned around.
“I’d like to read your essay,” Ok-hee said.
Double geez.
“Sorry, left it at school. See ya!” I said, tearing out of there faster than the Flash, the quickest dude in the comic book universe.
Yongsu was in the parking lot, fooling around with an old skateboard he’d found next to the Dumpster. He got us root beers from the fridge, and we hung out for a while. We didn’t talk about school, Korea, or anything, really. I just watched him try skateboard jumps and wipe out a lot. He took so many spills that we started counting them and laughing.
I almost forgot about that lousy essay. Almost.
Pouring on the Guilt Gravy
“You’re in big trouble, Joseph. Mommy and Daddy are talking about you on the patio, and Daddy’s Mad Meter is on,” Gina announced in her Channel Five reporter voice. Frazer was at her side, drooling as usual.
I’d missed Dad’s gourmet feast, though I noticed a foil-covered plate was left for me on the stove. The kitchen smelled more like garlic than broccoli now. It made me realize how hungry I was.
I poured myself a glass of orange juice. Then I zapped my dinner in the microwave. Gina came over and parked herself next to me at the kitchen table with a bag of Oreos and a glass of milk. Eeyore sat next to her on the chair.
“Where’s Sophie?” I asked as I sprinkled red pepper on my steaming linguini.
“At Kaylie Heinz’s bowling party. She always gets invited to birthday parties and I don’t.”
“Kaylie plays soccer with Sophie, that’s why,” I said.
“Or maybe it’s because kids think I’m a double-squared dork.” She sulked, her eyes looking down from behind her glasses.
Gina kept pulling apart her Oreos, scooping the filling out with her pinkie fingernail, licking the chocolate shells, and clumping them in a pile. It looked nasty, but I have to admit I prefer the cream to those dry Frisbees too.
I started to tune Gina’s whining out after a while. Here I was facing an academic felony, and she was carrying on about her lagging second-grade social life. Big deal.
“I wish I were adopted like you, Joseph,” Gina said.
That got my attention. “Why?”
“’Cause it makes you special. Everyone compares me to Sophie. We learned about antonyms in school today, like fat and skinny, hot and cold. Sophie and me, we’re twin antonyms. She’s chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and I’m boring vanilla.”